Eight Page Letter
by it was all a dream
Summary: People see the world as they want to see it. They make a hero out of a survivor, and a villain out of someone who simply doesn't know how to survive. Draco didn't know how to survive, until he met Lena.
1. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Hery everyone! This is my first fanfic! Hope ya like it! It will get better...just needed to set things up! Enjoy...review if ya liek it or for any tips! Thanks! 33

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry, Draco, or any people, things, and plots associated with them. However, if you know who I can go to to borrow Draco for a day or two, let me know...

**Chapter 1**

"_There's nothing new to talk about. And though our kids are blessed, the parents let them shoulder all the blame. Keep the blood in your head and keep your feet on the ground. Today's the day it gets tired. Today's the day we drop down. Give up my body in bed. All for an empty hotel. Wasting words on lowercases and capitals. I lie for only you. And I lie well."_

_"The Quite Things That No One Ever Knows" – Brand New _

Draco put down the knife and gazed at his reflection once more. What was the point anymore? It was wasted; everything was wasted. The timing was all wrong. He never even had a minute to himself anymore. He glanced down at the razor under the palm of hand sardonically. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he was never alone.

A knock sounded outside his bathroom once again. "Draco!" a fierce voice shrilled, reminding him why he agreed to finish out his last year of schooling under the direction of a wizard he loathed. "Your ride is here! You spend too much time in front of the mirror, Draco. You're like a worthless woman. You're not worthy of the name Malfoy."

Anger gripped Draco's mind, his hand forming into a fist, clutching the blade of the knife into his skin, feeling it get closer and closer to his skin. He looked at the mirror – at the cold eyes he had always seen as a child, twisted in hate, at the pale blond hair he had always seen retreating from him. His father was right; he wasn't worthy of the name. And yet he had it. Fate was cruel.

Draco gained composure and closed his pocket knife, slipping it into the pocket of his school robe. He looked at his palm. There wasn't much blood; no one would notice it. Finally, he opened the door to be greeted with yet another mirror image of himself – his father.

"Father," Draco nodded his head the least amount he could to still show some kind of respect. He didn't need a beating before the start of the fall term.

"Draco, I trust you will do me proud this year. Maybe you'll finally come out of the shadow of Potter."

Lucius' voice was cold, just like everything Draco had ever known. His father knew nothing. There were days when all Draco wanted was to be the damned boy who lived. He could've been, maybe. In another world. But that wasn't Draco's world. People always saw Potter as the stronger one; he had defeated evil time and time again. But at the end of the day, Potter got to walk away from that evil. He thinks what he did was great, try living with evil every day. Try knowing the fear that one action, one step out of line, one word that was even said wrong could mean evil descending on you, bearing down, and picking you apart until there was nothing left but the cold, the harsh cold. Potter could walk away from his evil, his demons; Draco never could.

"I should go father. Don't want to be late," Draco looked up at his father and said, almost mockingly, "Malfoys are never late."

Before his father could punish him for anything he could have done, Draco walked past him and down the steps to the foyer of Malfoy Manner, where his driver was waiting. He gave Draco a slight nod and held the door open for him. Draco stepped out into the warm, summer rain. It was the type of rain Draco despised; it fell, but it didn't cool things down, didn't help. It only fell to cause misery. This rain was the type Draco knew well – all too well.

The ride was all too slow; Draco had never wanted to go to Hogwarts, but it seemed better than the alternative these days. All he had done over the summer was deal with everyone that had come and gone into his life – going more frequently than coming – and try to forget about it all. He just wanted to rinse everything out of his head – everything he had seen and done. But it didn't work; nothing worked.

As soon as he had boarded the train, he was intercepted by an angry Snape. "Malfoy," he bellowed, pulling Draco away from his thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

Draco was taken aback. It was the right date; school had started the same day for years. Snape was the only teacher he had expected to want to see him, and yet he was questioning his reason for coming back to school? It was common knowledge that Draco could have graduated the year earlier, to go straight into the Dark Lord's service, but he had refused that alternative; going to Hogwarts, something he had fought against, was the only thing he had found the strength to fight for over the summer.

"Professor, I'm going to stay for my Seventh Year. I thought you knew that."

A simple reply was all he needed. He didn't even feel like that much. But Snape had always respected him. He might as well respect him back. He didn't want to lose the one person on his side. Well, not exactly on his side, but at least not trying to use him in some power struggle.

"I knew that, Malfoy. What I meant was that you're Head Boy. The letter sent to your house requested that you come a week earlier. The school was going crazy when you didn't come. Dumbledore sent you an owl every day."

This was all news to Draco. He hadn't looked at one letter that had come for him, assuming any news he got would only be bad news. Maybe he was hiding from his problems, but he thought it had worked, but now he may have lost something he had worked towards for six years.

"Professor, I didn't read any mail I received this summer. I didn't know," Draco said. He knew there was no excuse. He didn't even try to make one. Snape seemed to notice, to see that this wasn't the same Malfoy he had dealt with for the past six years. He looked Draco straight in the eye, the blinked, taken aback by what he saw there.

"I'll talk to Dumbledore, explain it to him. He should be forgiving, but know he will be watching, Draco. I won't be there to cover up for you all the time.

Draco was confused. Why was Snape acting so odd? He shrugged it off, deciding just to take things as they were. Sometimes it was worse to ask questions.

"Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded. "I suggest you find a compartment and rest; you'll have many duties once you get back to school."

Before Snape could walk away, Draco stopped him. "Professor, would I be correct in guessing that Hermione Granger was made Head Girl?"

A grim smile spread over Snape's face. "Never assume things, Malfoy. You never know what you'll find." With that, Snape walked off, leaving Draco with a few questions. Walking to find an empty compartment, Draco mulled it over. If it wasn't Granger, who could it be? Even Draco had to admit that she was the brightest girl – brightest student – at Hogwarts. No other girl had even come close to her in grades. How could there be a question over it?

"Malfoy! You got to hear this!"

Draco turned towards the direction the voice was coming from. A voice he knew quite well. "Blaise," he said simply, waiting for his fellow Slytherin to catch up with him.

"The mudblood didn't get it!"

Draco was amazed that the piece of information he was wondering about was the exact thing that Zabini had to tell him. They walked next to each other in silence, Blaise obviously waiting for Draco to ask some type of question. When they finally found a compartment to sit in, Draco took the bait.

"Who is it?"

Blaise sat back, a smug smile plastered on his face. "Well, I'm not so sure I should tell you. I mean, you don't seem very interested."

Draco was too tired to deal with mind games. His goal for spending another horrid year at Hogwarts was to escape them all. He wasn't about to play along with them. "Fine. I'll find out soon enough. I did get Head Boy, after all."

"Well what do ya know!" Blaise exclaimed. "Well, then I might as well tell you. See, it's not exactly that Granger didn't get it, it's just that she has to share it."

Two head girls? This puzzled Draco. He sighed. He had to admit, Zabini knew how to get someone interested. "What's the story behind that, Zabini?"

The smug smile was back in place as Blaise began his story. "You remember in about February of last year when Dumbledore introduced that new girl to the school? The transfer from some school in the States?"

Draco thought back. He had seen many gorgeous girls, and he'd had his own fair share of them. But she was something else. He couldn't help but notice her. She hadn't really been sorted into a house; Dumbledore had told the school he had tried, but the hat was stumped – the first time in history. She spent a month of her time left in the school staying in the dormitories of each house, in hopes that the hat could sort her for her last year. She had made friends in every house; it seemed like she could adapt to anything. But the hat still couldn't sort her. It was peculiar, to say the least.

"Yes, of course I remember her."

"Well," Blaise explained, "it seems that she and Granger will be sharing the title of Head Girl this year."

"Has that ever happened before?"

"Nope," Blaise replied, smiling. "Seems our wonder woman strikes again, breaking yet another tradition at our honorable school."

Draco huffed in reply. She really was a wonder woman, all joking aside. She was beautiful, funny, nice, and obviously brilliant.

"Seems like it's shaping up to be an interesting year for our Head Boy," Blaise commented wryly.

"It does indeed."


	2. Poetic Tragedy

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry, Draco, or any people, things, and plots associated with them. However, if you know who I can go to to borrow Draco for a day or two, let me know...

**Chapter 2**

"_in violent, frustration he cries out to God or just no one  
is there a point to this madness and all that he was...  
is just a tragedy _

he feels alone  
his heart in his hand  
he's alone  
he feels alone  
I feel...

then on that last day he breaks  
and he stood tall  
and he yelled... and he takes his life"

_"Poetic Tragedy" – The Used_

"Mr. Malfoy, so glad you could join us."

Draco picked his head up and looked at Dumbledore. He was seated at his desk, three chairs facing him. The two chairs on either end were occupied by Granger and Lena O'Connor. He quickly made his way to the chair in the middle.

"Professor," he mumbled in greeting, with a quick bob of his head.

"Now that we are all here, I'd like to quickly bring Draco up to pace about what has been happening in the past week. Lucky we had two Head Girls to handle all the work since Mr. Malfoy was missing in action." Dumbledore smiled at his own "joke." _Ha-ha, _Draco thought._ Yes very funny. _

"Draco, I know you are acquainted with your fellow Heads. I trust this year will run smoothly. As you all know, this is a great responsibility. With the war raging, I want this year to be as normal as possible for our students. We'll have three balls this year. It's up to you to decide when, and what years to invite. Many other responsibilities will be given to you three throughout the year…"

Draco felt himself tune out. He couldn't handle all this information. He was sure he'd be reminded of everything as it came up. He'd just deal with it then. The old bat would go on and on; it was bets just to stop listening.

As he thought, Draco felt eyes on him. Turning to his left, he met the gaze of the wonder woman herself. Draco was stricken by the look in her hazel eyes; she just seemed so sad. Draco shook his head, breaking the gaze they had shared. There was no need for her to be sad. Everyone liked her; she was beautiful, smart, nice, and so much more. What possible reason could she have for feeling sad? He just wanted someone to feel what he was feeling, Draco figured. He had to accept that not everyone's lives were horrible; he was alone. Like always.

"Now, about the matter of rooms," Dumbledore said as Draco began to listen again. "This past week, our girls have been staying in dorms form the different houses, but I do have a treat for you all. We have special chambers prepared for our Head Girls and Boy. You will find them behind the portrait of Professor McCoy, one of Hogwarts Headmasters. The password is "Lion's Fang," but you all may change it at any point. You will share a common room. There are two bathrooms, with one connecting two of the bedchambers. You may arrange who will live in each room on your own. Since you could not move in this week, you can do it now. You are excused from your duties for the Feast, but if you wish to join us, you are welcome. Now, I have First Years to see sorted. Let's make this year a good one."

The three students said their goodbyes and headed down from Dumbledore's office. Draco would be sharing a common room with two girls; it was a year of change. Draco smirked to himself – what guy wouldn't pay to be in his position?

The trio made their way to the room in silence. When they approached the right portrait, as always, Granger took control and said the password. It was only when they were in the common room with the portrait closed that someone dared to speak.

"Malfoy, good of you to decide to join us," Granger spat. She whipped around and glared at him. Draco lifted his head and looked at her. She was certainly different from First Year. Her curls were smoother, prettier. Her face wasn't horrible to look at; it never had been. She was slim, and she seemed stronger. Draco wouldn't deny that she had seen a lot in the past six years; she wasn't the meek, pitiful mudblood she had been when she entered Hogwarts. The years has strengthened her, made her grow harder.

Lena, on the other hand, seemed untouched by the war. She was always smiling; she had some kind of innocence around her. Now her smile was quite thin, her eyes concealing something as she stood between Hermione and Draco.

Draco didn't know what to say to Granger. For once, he didn't have a rude comment; the years had changed him, too.

"So," Lena began after a long stretch of silence, "who will be staying in which room?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Pathetic," she mumbled to Draco. Then, turning her attention to Lena, her features softened a bit.

"Well, I would say it makes logical sense that the girls share the bathroom, so they get the adjoining rooms."

Draco nodded his head; that's what he had figured.

"Want to look at the rooms before we make a decision?" Draco asked. He wasn't sure why; Granger's logic made sense.

Again, she rolled her eyes. "Fine. Not like it will make much of a difference. I'm not sharing a bathroom with a Malfoy."

"Of course," Draco countered. He couldn't let another stab go unanswered. "What would be the point of going in a bathroom to get cleaned if it's all been touched by a mudblood."

In an instant, Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at Draco. Lena stepped in front of him. Seeing this, Granger's eyes bugged out.

"Lena, move. He has to take that back," Granger said shrilly. Draco shuddered; she was so touchy.

"Look," Lena began, standing her ground, "If we're all going to live together and do our jobs, we have to get along. Our job is to make this school seem normal; make everyone forget about the threat of the war. We can't do that if there's a war amongst us."

"What do you mean, Lena?" Hermione snapped. "Draco and I have always fought. Even before the war broke out."

"You think the war just started two years ago, Granger?" Draco finally cut in. "It's been around a lot longer – longer than you and I, maybe. It's always been there; there was no avoiding it."

Granger's face got red from anger. "Unless I'm mistaken, Malfoy, people weren't getting killed so viciously and freely before our fifth year." She was getting annoyed; she had strong convictions about this.

Draco looked up into her eyes. There was so much she didn't know, yet she pretended to know everything. Suddenly, Draco envied her. She hadn't been around this evil her whole life; she didn't have to know how long the war had actually been building.

"You know, Granger," he began quietly, his voice shaking with conviction and rage and pain, "just because you don't _see _something, it doesn't mean it's not happening. Killings happen in the streets now; people see the murder. It's terrible, but not as terrible as silent deaths. Someone goes missing, and they're never found. No one knows where they are, how they died screaming, begging for their lives. People have always been killed, Granger. For this _war. _It didn't start when Sirius Black died. It didn't start when Ginny Weasley was possessed in the Chamber of Secrets. It didn't even start when Potter "defeated" Voldemort. It's been going on much longer; it has_ always _been there, and it always will be. We can't keep it away."

There was a stunned silence as the girls took in Draco's words. Hermione looked around, enraged, but thinking of any kind of response so she could win; she was always looking for a way to win. Lena, on the other hand, looked straight at Draco, searching for something in his eyes. It looked like she was about to speak, but she just shook her head and turned away, heading in the direction of the closest room.

Hermione and Draco stood staring each other down as Lena looked through the rooms, coming out of one door only to go to the next. Again, her voice broke the tension.

"Well, it looks like the rooms have already chosen their own occupants."

Malfoy and Granger turned their attention toward Lena, who was now seated on the common room's sofa.

"_What?" _Hermione snapped at her.

Smiling calmly, Lena nodded in the direction of the three doors. "Go see for yourselves."

Draco was the first to follow instructions. He walked into the first room Lena had gone in. It was spacious, but cozy. The curtains on the large window were white, as was the rug and the walls. There was a seat on the window ledge, with big white pillows. The large bed has a sheer white canopy tied to its bed poles. The sheets and comforter were white, but there were pillows covering the bed of every shape and size. There were green ones, silver ones, red ones, gold ones, yellow ones, purple ones, blue ones, and black ones. It was exquisite to see the splash of color in a room so white. The floor was tiled with wood, but the white rug was placed under the large bed. In one corner of a room, there was a small bureau with three large drawers. There was a closet with many clothes hanging in it through one open door, and there was one other room: the adjoining bathroom.

The bathroom was nice; there was a large tub in the middle, a door on the other side, two sinks. It was obviously the bathroom for two. The room was white; the girls would like it. The faucet was gold on the side that would obviously be Lena's, judging by the room he had just been in. he was about to leave the way he had come and search out the other room that was bound to be his when something caught his eye on the other sink. The faucet had some kind of design on it. It seemed to be a…

_No. _Draco thought. _It couldn't be…_

But it was; it was a snake. Draco was amazed. Slowly, he walked across the bathroom to the door opposite the one he had entered from. If he was right…

Slowly he opened the door, only to be hit with how right he was. The walls were a dark green. The window also had a seat to it, with forest green pillows on it. The bed was also a large canopy, covered in green silk sheets and large green pillows leading down to a small silver pillow in the middle of the arrangement. Under the bed, covering the wood floor was a green rug with the outline of a silver snake on it. This was his room; and it felt like home.

Draco was taken away; for once, it felt like he had a home, something that he belonged to.

"I hope you're not a slob in my bathroom."

He heard a voice behind him. He whipped around, facing Lena. He was all tense, ready for a fight if need be.

"Hey," Lena said, putting her arms up as if to show she wasn't looking for a fight. "I was just kidding. Didn't mean to offend you, if I did."

Draco felt his face soften; he doubted Lena was capable of offending anyone.

"I get my own bathroom!" Granger squealed, crashing into Draco's room, her face alight with happiness.

Lena laughed at her happiness. Her laugh was infectious; Draco even felt the corners of his lips turn up into a rusty, unpracticed smile.

Hermione smiled at Lena, and then her expression changed to worry. "Oh, Lena, you don't mind, do you? If you would be more comfortable, Malfoy and I could change rooms, right Malfoy?"

Draco took his eyes off Lena to look at Granger. He didn't want to change rooms; he wanted to share a bathroom with Lena. What was he thinking? Of course she's rather have Granger, not him, a Malfoy. He felt himself deflate.

"Sure," he mumbled, sitting down on his head, almost unable to handle his sudden change in moods.

"Oh no," Lena said, eyeing Draco out of the corner of her eye. He looked up at her when she answered and she smiled at him. "I don't mind at all. Enjoy your own room, Hermione. You've earned it!"

Hermione smiled thankfully at her, but asked again, "Are you sure? Dumbledore did say we could choose our rooms."

"Yes," Lena answered thoughtfully, "but like _I _said, our rooms chose us. I'm sure they had a reason. And I really have no problem with it. Unless, of course, Draco does."

They all turned their attention to Draco. "No, No. I don't mind," he mumbled again, feeling content once again. He tried a smile out; it didn't feel so strange, actually, despite the fact that it hadn't been used in years.

Hermione looked from Lena to Draco. "Good. Well, I think I'm going to go down to the Great Feast. It's been so long since I've seen Harry and Ron. Plus, Dumbledore might need my help. You guys going to come?"

"No thanks, Hermione. I'm really tired. Tell Harry and Ron I said "hi" though!" Lena answered, leaning comfortably against the doorframe leading into the bathroom.

"Alright. I'll be back later then. Bye!" she chanted happily, practically skipping from the room – a big chance since the anger she had felt just moments ago.

"Bye, Mione," Lena replied sweetly.

It wasn't until they heard Hermione leave through the portrait hole that the silence was once again broken.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

"What is?" Draco asked puzzled. "The room?"

Lena chuckled softly and pushed a stray strand of dark, wavy brown hair out of her face. "Well, yes, that too. But I meant seeing Hermione like that."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "Granger? Seeing her like what?" he asked warily, not sure he wanted to hear her response.

Lena cocked her head to the side and caught Draco's eyes in her own. "Happy. Seeing her happy."

Draco chortled in reply. "Well at least some people are," he said bitterly, looking down. He shouldn't have said that. Cold, hard Draco Malfoy wouldn't say that.

Lena got up from leaning on the wall and walked over to Draco. Calmly, she reclined across the top of the bead, lying right below the last pillow.

"I know the feeling."

The room was silent for a long time. Slowly, Draco turned slightly from his seat at the foot of the bed to look at the girl lying on his bed. Of course, he has girls on his bed before, but never so…innocently.

"And you don't have to be," she finished.

Once again, Draco was confused. "What? I don't have to be happy?"

"No," Lena said. Smiling sadly, she looked from the ceiling to Draco's eyes once more. "You don't have to be the Draco Malfoy everyone expects you to be."

It was as if she had read his mind. Draco was getting wary. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, really?" he said, a little too harshly. "And who is that?"

Lena looked back up at the ceiling. "You know who it is. It's an unfeeling boy. A strong man. The son of a Death eater. It's the kid that mocked Harry Potter ever since he set foot in this building simply because he was Harry Potter. It's the person who thinks those of muggle birth are dirt. It's someone who would hurt you, kill you even, if you disagreed with him." Draco got up, angry. So she had judged him too.

Draco was at the door to the room when her voice called him back.

"It's everything you're not."

It was then that Draco heard it in her voice. She was different; she could learn to care, if she didn't already. Draco had someone to turn to. He paused in the doorway, knowing he had a decision before him. He could turn to her; let her see that she was right; that he wasn't some evil bastard. Or, he could walk away, walk away as he had done from every chance that he had in the past. Draco shut his eyes, strengthening his resolve. He knew what he had to do. She'd be there when he came back, right?

"I'll be back," he said, not turning back to her. He heard her get up from his bed.

"Draco…"

"I'll be back."

And with that, he left his new found home. Roaming the halls of Hogwarts, he found his way to a door leading out of the castle. He opened it to be greeted with a heavy rain. Perfect. It would wash away the blood.


	3. Your Star

Hey everyone! Let me know what ya think! I won't post more after this chapter till I get a little feedback! Thanks everyone!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry, Draco, or any people, things, and plots associated with them. However, if you know who I can go to to borrow Draco for a day or two, let me know...

**Chapter 3**

"_Leave me be  
Now I'm free  
Love reflecting everything  
You want space  
I need you to help me see this through"_

_"Your Star" – All American Rejects_

Two hours later, Lena was sitting by her window, watching the rain come down. Funny that rain – drops of water that was meant to make things new and pure – could conceal so much; no one would see the tears you cried in the rain, the blood you shed.

A stray tear feel down her cheek. She had thought her crying was done. Hermione had come home about an hour ago and was sleeping soundly in her room, resting for the first day of classes. Lena was changed for bed, but she knew she wouldn't sleep until he was home and safe. She shouldn't have pushed so soon; she had to make sure he was okay.

Suddenly, she heard the portrait open. It was quiet, but her door was slightly open, and she had been listening for the sound. She heard footsteps that were trying to be quiet go into the door adjacent from her own. The light flicked on in the bathroom she shared with him. She couldn't stay in the dark any longer. Slowly, she made her way to the door.

Draco was examining his reflection when she came in soundlessly. He bent done to wash his face and when he looked up once more, he saw her reflection leaning against the doorframe of her own room.

"Leave," he said tiredly.

Lena shook her head and came closer, pushing her self up on the counter, inches from Draco's sink. "No. Sorry, but no."

"Lena-"

"Draco, I'm sorry if you hurt by all I said. I don't think that's who you are. You're not some murderous person, Draco. You aren't your father."

Draco's eyes flashed. He glared at her, pain and anger clear in his features.

"Yeah. Sure. You keep telling yourself that."

Draco began to walk out of the room, but her hand shot out and pulled him back. He winced as she pulled on his arm. Once he was facing her again, she got off the counter. They were so close now; he was practically trapping her against the counter. She looked up into his sad eyes, clouded over in pain and misery she knew nothing about. But she wanted to. Ever since she had come to Hogwarts, she had felt something for Draco. A strange type of connection. She knew why she was there – for him.

"You aren't, Draco," she said forcefully.

Draco closed his eyes to compose himself. She had always called him Draco, not Malfoy, never linking him to his father. Once he opened his eyes again, the anger was gone.

"What proof do you have, Lena? How can you just say I'm not like him?" he asked coldly, tired of life.

Lena's hand was still holding on loosely to Draco's arm. Gingerly, she moved her hand down to the sleeve of his white, button down shirt. She eased the sleeve up to reveal four fresh cuts made with great care into his forearm. Draco cringed when he saw them. He looked down sadly. Lena's fingers traveled up his hard chest to his chin. She gently tilted his head up so his eyes were locked into hers.

"_That_," she said softly, looking at his eyes, making her point clear, "is my proof."

Tears welled up in her eyes; tears for Draco. No one had ever cried for him before. She took him into her embrace, and he had never felt more cared about in his life. She pulled away almost as fast as she had hugged him.

"Come on," she said, "You should get some rest."

Draco nodded, suddenly realizing how tired the events of the day had made him. Lena put her hand in his and walked with him out of the bathroom into his dark room.

"What, are you going to tuck me in?" he asked, trying to joke.

Lena stopped and looked back at him. "Yes," she answered. She wasn't joking. Draco had never felt like this – that he had someone on his side for once. He didn't know what to say, how to act. He just looked at her. After a moment, Lena turned once more and got to his bed. She flipped the covers down and signaled that he should get in.

Sighing, Draco unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. He saw her eyes travel across his bare chest and a hint of a blush creep on to her features. Draco smirked to himself upon seeing her fleeting look. Within a moment, her eyes were back on his face, all hints of a blush forgotten. But he had seen it. He thought he'd spare her and keep his pants on. Slowly, he slid into his bed, careful not to rub his tender arms against anything.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered, leaning down and placing a kiss atop his head. With that, she left, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

For the first time in months, Draco felt he could sleep. The tiredness had been growing and growing, but he had never felt safe enough to sleep. Until now. Once his eyes were closed, he was away, dreaming, forgetting about what he had just done to himself, remembering only what it felt like to smile once more.


	4. Landing in London

**Disclaimer:** Plot's mine, that's it, the end

**Chapter Four**

"_all I could think about was monday  
And maybe I'll be back around _

If this keeps me away much longer  
I don't know what I will do  
You've got to understand its a hard life  
That I'm going through

And when the night falls in around me  
I don't think I'll make it through  
I'll use your light to guide the way  
Cause all I think about is you"

_"Landing in London" – 3 Doors Down_

Draco woke up smiling. He hadn't had a nightmare the whole night.

"Morning, sunshine," a soft voice whispered from his right.

He turned over to see Lena sitting next to him with her feet up on the bed. He smiled at her – actually smiled. Then, he remembered who he was. He was Draco Malfoy. And no matter how nice she was to him, she couldn't change who he was. That was too much, even for wonder woman.

Lena saw his eyes turn cold. She closed her eyes and steadier her breathing. She knew this wouldn't be easy.

"What are you doing here?"

Lena sighed and got up from the bed. "Wanted to point out to you that even brainiacs lack common sense."

Draco stared at her, caught off guard. What was she talking about?

Lena rolled her eyes. "Hermione. She came in last night ranting about how she needed a good night's rest for the first day of classes."

"Shit! First day of classes! What time is it? What's my first class?" How could he have just slept? He started to make his frantic way to the bathroom. He heard Lena start to laugh. Turning to face her, Draco noticed she was still in her pajamas. Really skimpy pajamas, too, for head girl.

Lena rolled her eyes and walked over to Draco.

"You might want to get ready to. Get out of your whore wear and get ready to face the first day."

"You mean tomorrow?" Lena asked, unfazed by his insult. She kept on coming closer to him, making Draco unwillingly back against the wall.

"What?" he spat, his back against the wall.

"Draco," she began, right up against him, playfully tugging on his shirt, "it's Sunday. We start classes tomorrow."

Draco sighed, aggravated that he was getting her all flustered.

"What's your problem?" he asked angrily, pushing her away and walking to the other side of his room. He pushed back his white-blonde hair from his face; he hardly ever took care of it anymore. It was getting very long.

"My problem?" Lena asked calmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes! I come in at night, you're there. I wake up in the morning, you're there. You don't leave me fucking alone. I never asked to be babied."

"And I'm not babying you, Draco! God, it's called caring about someone, Draco!" Lena said, losing her composure. Something inside her snapped; it shouldn't have.

Draco came closer to her, shaking with anger that he knew wasn't directed at Lena, but he would aim at her anyway.

"Caring isn't real. It's a lie. No one really cares about anyone! None of it's real. Love? Just an excuse for people fucking up their own lives! Friends? Just another way to get hurt. Let someone into your heart, into your life, and they'll only stay long enough to screw up your mind and your feelings, then they leave like everyone else. No one stays and nothing's real!"

Draco's breathing was ragged when the silence entered the room, leaving Lena and Draco locked in a gaze once more.

"Okay, so nothing's real. You know what I think is real?" she paused, voice trembling, but went on without an answer. "Those cuts on your arms? They're real. The pain you feel when there's no one left to yell at _because _there is no one you can cry to; there's only you and the blade. That's real, isn't it Draco? Those people your father killed? They're real…or they were. Your father's real. This whole war is real. But me and you, we're not real yet."

Draco flinched at her words. She was so honest. And she understood him more than anyone else ever had. He was amazed. But he was hurt. Her words made him remember how it felt – to not exist in a real way to anyone. Pain was real – he only hurt himself. Loneliness was real – he never made anyone else feel alone. There was no one he could leave when they had all left him years ago.

"We aren't real," she continued, voice sounding as if she, too, was on the verge of tears. "We don't hurt people. You hurt yourself, and I just stand on the sidelines. I noticed last year, but I didn't do anything. Not until now. Yeah, now as we scream bitter words at each other, we may not be real. But we came close last night. We were getting closer. I'm not going to let you sink back down into the man people think you are, Draco. So as unreal was it may be, I'm going to care about you, if that's okay with you."

With those words, she retreated from his room through the bathroom, into her own. Draco was left with her words echoing in his head. She had never been more right. He had felt it, last night. But…who he was…

_Who you are isn't real_, a voice said in his head _Lena__, she's what's real in your life._ He had to follow her. He had no choice.

She was lying on her bed when he walked in, back facing him. It was easiest for him to stay in the shadows and talk to her.

"Why does everyone think I'm so bad?" he asked quietly, reflecting on his years at Hogwarts. True, he had been mean. But he had never been truly evil, not really. Not like his father.

"Besides the fact that you tortured Harry every chance you got?" came her smooth reply. Sighing, she got up and walked to where he was leaning against her wall. Taking his hand in hers, she replied, "Draco, people see the world how they want to see it. They made a hero out of a survivor, and a villain out on someone who simply hasn't learned to survive. Potter survived before he knew what it was, and he keeps on surviving. He's everyone's hero. And you…you don't know how to survive. You don't face evil once every year; you face it every day, Draco. Doing that, it's hard. You're still figuring out how to survive in all that, and somehow, you became the villain. I don't know why, Draco. I don't."

Draco was once again left in awe by her words. He wasn't sure if he really understood it; he wasn't sure if he really understood anything anymore. Slowly, he brought her hand to his face and held it there, looking down into her hazel eyes – the only place he could find warmth, light.

"How can I change their minds?" he whispered.

On an impulse, Lena quickly brought her lips to meet Draco's cold ones. The kiss lasted only a second, and then she pulled back.

"Prove them wrong."


End file.
